Interrogation
by Jessica R Vance
Summary: "If you're going to be accused, you may as well commit the crime, right?" Rated M for filth.


**Interrogation**

You're sitting on the floor of her room, as usual, the pair of you doing your schoolwork. Well, _you're_ doing your schoolwork. She's looking at you, staring a hole in the back of your head from her perch on the bed. You can feel her gaze, dark and irritated, her personal brand of annoyance, but you focus on your sums. Ignoring her is an art, and you're not entirely unskilled at it.

Then she starts talking. "Rei-chan." You divide by seven. "Rei-chan." Carry the six. The mattress shudders against your back as she shifts position. "Rei-_chan_."

Finally you tilt your head by scant degrees. "Mm?" A puff of warm, sweet air. She is literally breathing down your neck. "Do you need help on a problem?"

"I've been finished for ages." First-year equations were always so easy. It's unfair. Her voice drops, tickling at your earlobe. "You know what I want."

Your fingertips tingle and you grip your pencil with renewed pressure. Solve for _x_. Featherlight pressure on the nape of your neck, lips pressed to your hairline in something that's nearly a kiss, but lingering. You swallow. "We've been over this, Yoshino. A dozen times, at least. My answer is still no."

Her mouth is gone and you wince when her forehead that meets the back of your skull not-quite-gently. The groan she releases nearly makes you laugh, the feminine tenor at odds with the guttural noise of frustration. But you press your lips flat, keep yourself from bending. "Nobody will have to know," she wheedles. "It wouldn't surprise anyone if I found it."

"Of course it wouldn't." You have five equations left. You've been staring at the next one for thirty seconds, unable to make sense of it. Her proximity is distracting. You lower the tip of your pencil to the paper but don't write anything. "Everyone would assume I told you."

"Exactly!" The mattress bounces again. She's sitting up straight now; she thinks she's found a straw and she's grasping at it. "Everyone already _assumes_ you're going to tell me, so you might as well tell me." You nearly turn, to let her see the by now familiar exasperation on your face, but you know that as soon as you do, she'll pin you with those eyes of hers and you'll be next to helpless. "If you're going to be accused, you may as well commit the crime, right?"

A single, short chuckle shakes you. You scrawl a hesitant integer onto the worksheet. It's probably not correct, but it's something. In your peripheral vision, you see bare legs swing over the side of the bed, toes curling into the rug. Smooth, pale skin – you'd forgotten that she was wearing a skirt. This is bad. You swallow again and wonder what on earth nine minus five is.

"Rei-chan."

Oh no. You've heard that tone before. It comes before slow kisses and hushed, happy sounds. She nudges a knee into your shoulder. "Come sit up here with me."

You want to. You really, really want to. With as much subtlety as humanly possible, you shift your hips until you're just far enough away from her to no longer feel the heat of her body. You know it's a trap, know it's a dirty trick to get you to tell her where you're planning to hide the card. You're not falling for it.

Blunt fingernails scrape against your scalp and it feels so delicious that goosebumps raise along your arms. Your eyes, trained with such dedication on your paper, flutter closed. She slides, slow and torturous, onto the floor besides you, the length of her body pressing into your side. Clever fingertips continue to scratch a space near your ear. Her lips follow the movement, coming in close and filling your head with a pulsating buzz when she whispers, "Put the pencil down."

You're not sure if you actively obey or if your hand simply goes numb. But the pencil drops onto your paper, useless. "I need to finish this," you mutter, voice slightly choked from the throbbing in the lining of your throat. You still haven't looked at her.

"Later."

It's a breath, hardly a word at all. You open your eyes, trying to still the lightning skittering down your spine, and finally turn to her. "Yoshino – "

Her name disappears into the air when you see her. She is poised to spring, her pupils enormous. Her smile is sugar – her eyes cinnamon.

You are done for.

You've caught her around the waist and pulled her onto your lap to face you before you know what you've done. She laughs merrily, her skirt rucking up about her thighs as she leans elbows on your shoulders, hands splaying on the bed behind you. Your mouth covers hers completely and you swallow the sounds she makes, thrilling at the danger of it more than you'd care to admit. Your hands creep up her sides and hold her against you, both of you still just unpractised enough to pause. This is only the fourth time (no, the fifth, you're losing count) you've come together like this, in this strange crush of bodies that leaves you hot and smiling and so in love with her you can barely breathe. It made sense. It still does. You're dizzy with it.

Teeth on your bottom lip bring your mind home to her. She pulls away just long enough to tug her sweater over her head, leaving you to run your hands across the skin of her bare lower back as you watch your rosary fall against her chest. You fumble with the clasp of her bra; neither of you is adept at that little trick. Your eyes light on the scar that stains her chest and you lean forward to kiss it, because it's a part of her, and that makes it beautiful. She sighs and there's a moment of stillness before she scrabbles at your back, begging you silently to remove your own shirt. You comply, of course. You always will.

Somehow you find yourself on the bed beneath her, both of you stripped to your underthings. Yours are sensible, grey and cottony soft, and the tips of her fingers rest just beneath the waistband, still but hardly forgotten. She's covering your face and neck with kisses and you're trying hard not to buck up against her palm. On the other hand (her other hand, cupped about your skull and pulling your hair, _focus_), politeness and dignity have their time and place. And it's not here. You press.

She nips at your jawline on her way to your ear once more and exhales once, twice. You expect teasing words, long to hear your name, live for _I love you_. But then she whispers.

"Tell me where you're hiding the card."

The lights firing in your mind dissolve, bringing the ceiling into sharp focus. You look up at her, her brown eyes insistent. "What?"

One slim finger slides low, barely entering you. You choke on your own breath. "Tell me."

It's on the tip of your tongue. _The library_. You could say it, and the mad pulsing that threatens to swallow you whole could be relieved. She pushes. _The library_. It's just a game, a silly game played by silly girls at school, why does it matter if it's fixed in Yoshino's favour? The whole world is fixed in Yoshino's favour. She's inside you, two knuckles deep. You open your mouth. _The library_.

"No."

She freezes. Honestly, you're just as surprised as she is. Your forehead wrinkles, imploring. "It wouldn't be fair to everyone else."

Her expression is mild. "So?" She's still inside, stroking almost absentmindedly now. You're going to lose your mind.

"So." It's not a good response. You try again. "Wouldn't you rather win the treasure hunt knowing that it was our bond as sœurs that led you to the card?"

She looks at you as though wondering if you actually are the stupidest person on earth, or just doing a very good impression. "No." She slides her finger one inch further. You've forgotten what air is. "You're really not going to tell me, are you?" she asks, eyes narrowing. You shake your head, knowing that if you try to respond vocally, you'll make some kind of embarrassing noise.

Her smile is almost… impressed? "Ah, well," she sighs, lowering her head to trail sharp little teeth along your clavicle. "Shame to waste the moment." She presses, slow and methodical, and from somewhere very far away, you hear her add, "I'll get it out of you eventually." You lean your head back, closing your eyes and sighing as she moves.

She's welcome to try.


End file.
